A New Beginning

by Amelia C. Adams

  When she arrived back at the hotel, she found Mr. Brody and Miss Hampton sitting on a blanket out front, eating sandwiches. She led Cleophas to the stable and got him properly situated, then rounded the corner of the building to receive her next assignment.

  “Join us,” Mr. Brody said, motioning toward the blanket. “Our landlady packed us this very pleasant lunch.”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together in an effort to keep from making a fool of herself. Those sandwiches looked delicious—she hadn’t eaten anything so fancy in a long time, and she was starving. Breakfast had been nothing but a cup of coffee hours ago. She took a seat, spreading her skirts modestly, then accepted the offered food. Her first bite of soft bread nearly melted in her mouth.

  Miss Hampton passed over a small plate of sliced fruit and another of cookies. Elizabeth felt decadent, almost as if she were on a church picnic. She glanced over and caught Mr. Brody gazing at her, but he quickly averted his eyes.

  She wasn’t sure what to make of Mr. Brody. His moods seemed so variable, he couldn’t be predicted. She found him kind, but in other moments, he was stern. She supposed this type of combination was best in a businessman, but she would have liked to know what to expect from him. Perhaps the longer they worked together, the more she’d come to understand his moods. One thing she sensed innately, however—while he might be changeable, he would never be like her husband. She simply could not picture him striking a woman in anger. Then she wondered why she was even comparing the two.

  They had just finished their meal and Miss Hampton was placing the last dish in the basket when a young lady, satchel in hand, approached the hotel. “Good afternoon!” she called out gaily. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

  Mr. Brody stood and nodded. “Hello. I’m Adam Brody.”

  “And I’m Harriet Martin. You’re just the man I came to see, Mr. Brody.” She stuck out a frank hand, and Mr. Brody took it after a moment’s hesitation. Elizabeth was taken aback at the girl’s openness, but she also had to admit that she found it refreshing. “I do hope you’re still looking for help. I’ve come quite a distance, and I’m not prepared to go back.”

  The girl had a faint accent, and Elizabeth wondered where she was from. Mr. Brody must have wondered the same thing, for he asked, “How far have you come, Miss Martin?”

  “All the way from Atlanta, Georgia. I admit, however, that I didn’t see your advertisement until I reached Kansas, so I can’t say that I came here entirely on your account.” She laughed merrily, and Mr. Brody joined in. She had beautiful auburn hair and green eyes, and Elizabeth instantly felt plain.

  “What did bring you here, then?” Mr. Brody asked, leaning on the fence post nearest him.

  Miss Martin set her bag down at her feet. “That’s a difficult question to answer. We’ll just say that the South was a dangerous place a decade ago, and it’s still a dangerous place today, but for different reasons.”

  He nodded. “That’s a fair explanation. Do you have any job skills?”

  “Mr. Brody, I’ll be completely honest with you. I’ve never had a job a day in my life, but I’m ready to learn anything you can teach me.”

  Mr. Brody flicked his eyes over at Miss Hampton. She looked anything but pleased. Elizabeth suddenly felt as though she didn’t belong in this conversation and should leave, but at the same time, it was utterly fascinating, and she’d stay as long as she was allowed. She took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed.

  “Miss Martin, we would prefer to hire young ladies with more experience, but I’ll match you truth for truth. We need help, and we need it badly. I’ll hire you on a trial basis, and my aunt, Miss Hampton, will teach you what you need to know.”

  Miss Martin clasped her hands together, reminding Elizabeth of a schoolgirl. “Oh, I’d be delighted to give it a try, Mr. Brody. Thank you.”

  He turned to Miss Hampton. “Aunt Caroline, how close are the staff rooms to being ready? Miss Martin will need a place to stay.”

  Miss Hampton gave him an incredulous look. “Adam, we’ve been working on the first floor. I’ve only taken down the draperies in the guest rooms—that’s all, as of yet, and nothing in the staff quarters.”

  Adam nodded, then looked around. His eyes landed on Elizabeth. “Ah, there you are, Miss Caldwell. Would you please take Miss Martin upstairs and show her the ladies’ dormitory, and then the two of you can clean it up as your next task?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Certainly.” She paused, then flicked her eyes to Miss Hampton. “Where is the ladies’ dormitory?”

  Miss Hampton suppressed a smile. “I’ll show you the way. At some point, we’ll need to conduct a grand tour and get everyone acquainted with the property.”

  Miss Martin picked up her satchel and followed Elizabeth and Miss Hampton into the hotel. “This will be a lovely place,” she exclaimed as they entered the main lobby.

  “I’m glad you can see it. I’m afraid my eye stops on the dust and grime,” Miss Hampton said as she guided them over to the staircase.

  “Grime can’t stop something from being beautiful. It just covers it up,” Miss Martin replied.

  They climbed the stairs to the second floor, then took a smaller staircase to an attic. The room was very large, running the length of the entire building, and while the ceiling was sloped, it left room for them to stand easily.

  “This area will be the quarters for the female employees,” Miss Hampton explained. “We’ll bring in cots and freshen it up with a coat of paint, but first, it must be swept and mopped.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can do that,” Miss Martin exclaimed. “I mean, if someone will show me how. I know it’s terrible—I’m eighteen and don’t even know how to mop—but I’m willing to learn.”

  Miss Hampton nodded. “Very well. I’ll leave Miss Caldwell here to assist you.”

  Elizabeth waited until she heard Miss Hampton’s footsteps recede down the hall, then turned to Miss Martin. “Please, call me Elizabeth. We’re going to be working closely together, and I’d like us to be friends.”

  Miss Martin stepped forward and offered Elizabeth the same kind of eager handshake she’d given Mr. Brody. “And you must call me Harriet. Tell me, is Miss Hampton always so . . . austere?”

  “I just met her yesterday, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I do believe she has a sense of humor, though. I’ve seen her hold back a smile a few times, mostly at Mr. Brody’s expense.”

  Harriet threw back her head and laughed. “Are all of you so serious? Gracious, with all these solemn faces, I feel like I’ve walked into a funeral parlor.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She supposed they all were rather serious, but that was just her nature, and Mr. Brody and Miss Hampton were quite concerned over getting the hotel ready on time. “Perhaps you can liven us up a bit,” she suggested.

  “I’ll certainly do my best.” Harriet removed her hat and draped it over the banister, then reached in her bag and pulled out an apron. “I say there’s no time like the present. Let’s get to work, shall we, and you can give me pointers on how to use the broom and mop.”

  Harriet chattered merrily while she worked, asking questions about Topeka and Kansas and the West and Indians and all sorts of things that Elizabeth knew nothing about. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice Elizabeth’s short answers, but moved on to the next observation or question. The room was swept and mopped in record time, and Elizabeth was surprised to see how quickly the task had been accomplished. But then, work always went more quickly with friends.

  “And now we’re ready for the whitewash, right?” Harriet said, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. “I’m quite sure that housework was never meant to be done while wearing petticoats.”

  Elizabeth was startled. “What should we be wearing?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I think a pair of trousers would be a marvelous idea, though.” Harriet gave her brow another swipe, then turned and caught Elizabeth’s expression. “I’ve scandalize
d you, haven’t I? I’m sorry. I just do that sometimes.”

  “No, no, I’m not scandalized,” Elizabeth protested, even though she was. “I’ve never thought of wearing trousers before, that’s all. I’d feel rather indecent.”

  “Why? You’d still be covered from stem to stern, and you’d be free from these yards and yards of fabric.” Harriet grabbed her skirts and shook them, and dust flew up in the air. “See? They’re nothing but dirt catchers. We’d actually be doing mankind a service if we stopped wearing them. Think how much cleaner the world would be.”

  Elizabeth had no reply, so she gave none.

  “Now, before we see about the whitewash, tell me something,” Harriet said, leaning in. “Where’s Mrs. Brody?”

  “I don’t believe there is one. I’ve never heard her mentioned, if there is.”

  “That’s rather fascinating. Rather fascinating indeed.” Harriet tapped her chin with her finger, then caught Elizabeth’s eye again. “What now? Surely you can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed what a handsome man Mr. Brody is.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed. She had noticed. Yes, indeed, she had noticed, and she had no right to. She’d only been a widow for a short time, she’d met him only the day before, and he was her employer. She shouldn’t be noticing anything about him at all. But the way his hair curled when it was damp with sweat, the little crease in the corner of his mouth when he smiled, the twinkle in his eye—those things were hard to ignore. “He is pleasant-looking,” she said at last.

  Harriet put her hands on her hips. “That’s probably the most polite answer I’ve ever heard in my life. Come on, Elizabeth—doesn’t he make your heart go pitty-pat even the littlest bit? I think a woman would have to be dead not to be affected by him.”

  Elizabeth gave in. “All right, yes, I do think he’s handsome,” she admitted.

  “Good girl.” Harriet grinned. “Now let’s go see about that whitewash.”

  Chapter Seven

  Adam arched his back and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles. He’d lost track of how many broken dishes and pieces of furniture he’d hauled out of the house and how many walls he’d scrubbed. At this rate, they would never be finished on time. Miss Martin had certainly done her fair share, as had Miss Caldwell. He paused a moment in his thoughts to consider those young ladies. They were as different as night and day, each with their own strengths and foibles, but he believed they would both work out well. He allowed himself to linger just for a moment on the memory of Miss Caldwell’s eyes, and then he forced himself back to the matter at hand. It was time to follow Miss Caldwell’s advice and place his advertisements in newspapers back east.

  He washed up in the basin in the corner of his room. It was rather ridiculous for a man to own his own hotel and yet to be staying in a small boarding house. It was even more ridiculous that while they had finished preparing the ladies’ dormitory down to beds and blankets, Miss Martin was staying here at Mrs. Dempsey’s with them because it wasn’t safe for her to be at the hotel by herself. Adam made the decision that the next day’s task would be to finish up the rest of the staff rooms. He and Aunt Caroline needed to be on site to oversee the hotel at all hours, and Miss Martin needed companionship and protection at night.

  He wiped the dripping water from his face with a towel, resolving that the next night, he’d take a full bath. A man couldn’t work so hard and expect a dainty pitcher and a tiny washcloth to do a proper job of refreshing him. He changed into his bedclothes and sat on the edge of his mattress, ready to go through his nightly ritual.

  The carved wooden box fit easily in the palm of his hand. He cradled it for a moment, feeling the silkiness of the varnished wood that had become even more polished as he stroked it. He traced the hummingbird design on top with his index finger, then inhaled and slid off the top.

  Inside lay a cameo brooch, edged with gold filigree. He picked it up and held it to the light of his kerosene lamp, remembering the last time he’d seen Vivian wear it. He had taken her to a dance, picked her up in his buggy and driven her there under stars so bright, they seemed to make the entire sky glow. She’d worn her peach-colored dress, and this cameo was pinned to her neckline. Her golden curls had been brought up into a waterfall that cascaded down the back of her head. They were still a quarter mile away from reaching the party when he brought the horses to a standstill on the side of the road and scooped her into his arms. Her lips had been soft and inviting, and he was breathless before he finally let her go. He hadn’t said anything, but just grinned, picked up the reins, and urged the horses onward.

  Adam blew out a puff of air and returned the pin to its box, then hid the box under his mattress. Each night, the pain of her loss took on a new shape, a new dimension. Lately, it had become a sort of good-bye rather than keeping her memory alive, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Not sure at all.

  * * *

  “There must be an explanation, I’m sure.” Miss Martin stood in the center of the dining room, her hands on her hips. Adam turned from where he’d been hanging a painting on the wall, a spare nail still in his mouth. He took it out, put it in his pocket, and turned to face her.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Martin. What’s the matter?”

  “The matter, Mr. Brody, is that I went outside to fetch another bucket of water, and there was this . . . man . . . outside. He told me you hired him this morning.”

  “That’s right, I did. His name is Tom White, and he’ll be our porter, carpenter, handyman, blacksmith, and whatever else we might need.”

  Miss Martin pressed her lips together as though there was something more she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Martin?”

  “It’s just . . . well, he’s . . .”

  “Perhaps I can answer that question for you,” came a slow drawl from the back of the room. Tom leaned against the doorway, one thumb hooked in his overalls strap. “I most likely offended the young lady.”

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “How did you go about that?”

  “I reckon it was my mere existence that done it.”

  Adam bit back a sharp retort of impatience. “Could you please tell me what happened?”

  “I was standing at the pump, getting more water, like I said, and this person came up behind me and . . . surprised me.” Miss Martin’s cheeks colored.

  “Truth be told, from behind, she looks exactly like Beulah May Evans, my sweetheart from back home, and I thought she was Beulah May, so I decided to say hello with a proper welcome.”

  “And just what was that proper welcome?” Adam asked. Time was of the essence, and if he didn’t start getting some straight answers soon, he just might take the hammer in his hand and threaten them with it. He wouldn’t do any damage, but he did not have the patience for this.

  “He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my cheek,” Miss Martin said.

  Adam forced himself not to smile. “Yes, I can see how that would alarm you.”

  “I figured out right away she wasn’t Beulah May—that is, right after she whirled around and slapped my face—so I apologized,” Tom said. “I don’t see why we can’t let bygones be bygones.”

  “Mr. White, I don’t know what sort of man you are because we only just met, and I don’t know what sort of woman Beulah May is because I’ve never met her at all. However, I do know what kind of woman I am, and I’m not accustomed to being welcomed at water pumps. In the future, I suggest that you properly identify the young ladies of your acquaintance before you lay your hands on complete strangers.” Miss Martin’s anger was barely held under the surface, her voice trembling with rage. “What do you have to say about this, Mr. Brody?”

  Adam blinked. “I can’t imagine what I could possibly add, Miss Martin. You seem to have handled it quite nicely.”

  “I trust that any further incidents will be dealt with immediately?” she pressed.

  “Absolutely. But I get the feeling that Mr. White has
learned his lesson. Isn’t that so, Tom?”

  Tom nodded. “Absolutely. No more water pump improprieties for me.”

  Adam turned back to Miss Martin. “I believe we’ve settled the matter, then.”

  She nodded. “Where is Miss Caldwell? I’d like to speak to her.”

  “No doubt to tell her what a rapscallion I am,” Tom said.

  “Tom, why don’t you go finish that north fence?” Adam suggested in a tone that really wasn’t a suggestion at all. The handyman went back outside, his boots heavy on the floor, and Adam returned his attention to Miss Martin. “Miss Caldwell went home for a few minutes to check on her elderly mother. She should be back soon.”

  “Good. I’m in need of discussing a rapscallion.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rose had been particularly sweet that afternoon, and Elizabeth had a difficult time handing her back to Agatha and returning to the hotel. How long would she need to work away from her child? She didn’t see an end to it. The only thing that would save her from employment would be marriage, and she couldn’t imagine that any man would want to take on a widow, her daughter, her mother, and the host of difficulties that would entail. It was best if she put that thought out of her mind and prepared to spend the next several years, at least, in service. It wasn’t at all what she’d imagined for her life, but it was what she had, so she’d make the most of it.

  She mounted Cleophas in the yard and trotted down the road. As she came to a bend, she saw two men from town standing there, one smoking a pipe and the other whittling something with his knife. She raised her chin and urged Cleophas to move faster, but even her increased speed didn’t keep her from hearing their inappropriate words as she passed. She recognized them as the two men who had spoken to her outside the saloon the other day. With her cheeks flaming red, she rode up to the hotel, dismounted, and gasped when a young man with a thick shock of straw-colored hair reached out for the reins.